Courtney Barnett – ‘End Of The Day’ album review: a sonic space for reflection
Last year, Australian indie rock artist Courtney Barnett delivered Anonymous Club, a stark and striking look at the singer-songwriter’s life behind the scenes. Shot on 16mm film and directed by Danny Cohen, it formed a diary for Barnett’s saddest days on the road and her unrelenting quest to keep on keeping on amid the hard ways of touring. Now, she unveils End Of The Day, an album which compiles 17 improvisations Barnett composed for the documentary in collaboration with Stella Mozgawa.
Minimal and understated, End Of The Day steps away from Barnett’s usual rough indie rock sound and blunt lyricism. Instead, it provides space for personal contemplation and reflection through ambient, instrumental soundscapes, with brief sonic glimpses of the bold Barnett we’ve come to know and love.
Barnett’s previous work has always been dominated by her accented, abrasive vocals and witty charms. Inspired by her own experiences, but inadvertently speaking for an entire generation, her words have become her trademark. There’s an unexplainable modern beauty to lines like “I can see Jesus and she’s smiling at me” from ‘Kim’s Caravan’, for example.
On End Of The Day, Barnett was unable to channel the reflective nature of her lyrics. Penning compositions to be slotted underneath shots of her on stage or in a tour bus overlaid with deeply personal voiceovers, the Australian singer-songwriter was forced to infuse the music itself with reflection. In the album’s atmospheric guitars and soaring synths, Barnett finds a new form of musical contemplation.
Many of the record’s song titles reflect the themes of Anonymous Club – ‘Start Somewhere’, ‘Life Balance’, and ‘Get On With It’, seem to point towards themes of self-care and perseverance. Musically, too, the record sounds how the documentary feels. Throughout the album, twangy guitars are layered with softly whirring atmospherics, bringing Barnett’s angular sound into the movie score world.
‘Intro’ provides one of End Of The Day‘s closest moments to Barnett’s usual instrumental, featuring slightly harsher, wavering guitars, and her willingness to embrace dissonance. Meanwhile, ‘First Slow’ abandons Barnett’s trusty guitar entirely, building a synth-based soundscape that emulates the wind, creating a luscious contrast. Whether it’s through her adept guitar-playing or exploration of electronic production, End Of The Day is endlessly introspective, much like the film it accompanies, so this contrast seems fitting.
Though the record is intricately bound-up with the themes and subjects, Anonymous Club is certainly enhanced by Barnett’s candid voiceovers, creating an open world that seems decidedly current. Rather than captivating audiences through unflinchingly specific and blunt sentences, End Of The Day leaves the specifics up to us.
Barnett’s wit and deadpan vocals are certainly missed, but End Of The Day achieves an entirely different goal from the rest of her output. Presented without lyrics that chart her own experiences or the accompanying visuals of the documentary, it’s a blank page for listeners to paste their own thoughts and feelings onto, leaving space for a more personal form of contemplation.
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